


Be quiet, go to sleep

by ko_writes



Series: Writing out my emotions [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Physical Abuse, Sexism, Suicidal Thoughts, Toxic friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes





	Be quiet, go to sleep

Parents are yelling and I'm sitting on the  other side of the room. I could leave, but I'll be blamed.

Why won't they be quiet? Why won't they be nice? Why, when this is over, won't I get any sleep tonight?

It's not my fault. Logic. It's really not my fault...

Precious logic.

So called friends call the police on their own so called friends. Who's lying, were there even police, when did I get into this?

So called friends throw punches and insults, then we hug and brush it all away. I self destruct using their destruction; easy, convenient, fucked up.

Called a slut, though I'm a virgin. Abused and discriminated against for no reason other than the fact I'm female, a woman - who am I kidding? A girl. I tell them to fuck themselves because it's the only way they'll get any.

I complain. I always complain, never shut my fucking mouth; sometimes I feel that life would be easier if I just cut out my tongue. Then I remember that some people can't talk and would like to, so I stay away from the kitchen knives.

I'm a shitty piece of trash but I used to be a princess, running around the house in Disney dresses talking to my imaginary pet; a dragon called Fido who thought he was a dog. I never corrected him.

I go on Tumblr and see a post saying that this person wants me to be happy and loved. I smile weakly for a second before remembering they aren't talking to me, just an empty space. The void remains.

Shouting, more shouting; money, money, money, you're an idiot, I didn't realise, still an idiot.

Starting to wonder why mum seems to care more for the dog than her husband or daughter.

I tell her about my friend. I'm not allowed to ignore her, I don't have enough friends.

But I have friends! Lovely people who I adore and they respect me!

Apparently they aren't friends if they don't ask me to do stuff with them.

I have no answer to that. As well as no friends.

It's upsetting when you realise you're mother cares more about the fucked up societal concept of 'normal' and you appear it than your health, be it emotional, psychological or physical.

She won't take me to the doctor for pains I've suffered for years, but the dog gets expensive treatment for a sniffle.

I love the dog, but I also hate him sometimes.

Mum, I -

Shut up, there are dogs on TV.

You don't even know them.

I think of knives, the pale unmarred skin on my arms; sometimes I think of marring it.

I think of that knife unstitching the fibres of my skin as crimson wells up then runs away.

I think of slit wrists, slit throats; what would kill me quicker?

No, I'm going to that show in September; I get to meet the actors. Something to look forward to.

It's sad that the only thing I can think of to talk me down is a fucking _show_!

I think about jumping off the bridge on the way to school. I walk up to the edge sometimes and peer down at the traffic raging beneath.

Surely it'd be easy to hop over the rail...

Stop. Take a breath.

Go to the bathroom, run the shower, cry.

Would someone please care?

 


End file.
